


In This Life, In This Time (Whatever You Want)

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Birthday, Friendship, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-21
Updated: 2010-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikado wants to get Masaomi something special for his birthday and keeps asking about it, until Masaomi finally shares his secret wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Life, In This Time (Whatever You Want)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Kida Masaomi's birthday and for the [Durarara!! Kink Meme](http://drrrkink.livejournal.com/). The title comes from lyrics to Tina Turner's "Whatever You Need."

When Mikado first asked what Masaomi wanted for his birthday, Masaomi had only grinned and said, "Surprise me!" When Mikado asked if there wasn't anything he really wanted—anything within reason, Mikado had amended; anything Mikado could _reasonably_ get him—Masaomi had laughed and, in that sing-song voice of his, told Mikado it was a secret. Then he had laughed again and said, with a wink, "Whatever you get me, Mikado, I know I'll love it!"

Frustrated, Mikado had gone so far as resorting to asking Sonohara to use her feminine charms on Masaomi. In retrospect he wasn't sure how good an idea that was; maybe he should have asked a different girl, one with more confidence in and practice with her own feminine charms. But Mikado doesn't really know any girls like that, except Celty, maybe. Sending the Black Rider to find out what Masaomi really wanted for his birthday probably would have been overkill, though (and anyhow, the more he thought about it, the less certain he was that Celty actually _did_ have better mastery of her feminine charms...).

So here it is, his best friend's birthday, and Mikado is empty-handed. This is the first birthday they've spent together since Masaomi moved to Tokyo, and Mikado wanted to make it special; he wanted to give Masaomi something he really wanted instead of the same old video games and gadgets and such. He decides to try again, one last time. "Masaomi," he says as they're walking home from school, "won't you tell me what you want for your birthday?"

As expected, Masaomi laughs. "Isn't it a little late to be asking me that?"

With a determined shake of his head, Mikado says, "If there's something you want, we can go get it right now."

"I told you already—whatever you give me, I will cherish and treasure most dearly!"

"Please." Mikado hurries to catch up with Masaomi's traipsing pace. "If there's something you want—I just want to give you something memorable." He feels a flush creep along the back of his neck at the unexpected word choice that popped out of his mouth. "Something that will make you truly happy."

"Well~, if you _insist_ upon knowing, there _is_ one thing my heart desires," Masaomi says and Mikado feels relief—until Masaomi continues, "A birthday kiss!"

"You want a..." Mikado slows, letting himself fall behind. His belly knots in on itself. Where is he supposed to find someone to kiss Masaomi? _How_ is he supposed to find someone to kiss Masaomi? Or does Masaomi mean—he can't mean he wants Mikado to take him to the red light district?

"A kiss!" Breaking into Mikado's thoughts, Masaomi grins over his shoulder as he finishes the sentence. He turns around to walk backwards for a couple of steps before dropping back so they're walking together again. The bravura strips out of his voice as he faces forward and adds, "From you."

When Mikado looks at him, Masaomi stops walking and leans against one of the buildings in the alley they're cutting through. He's still smiling but Mikado doesn't remember having seen a smile like this on his face before; uncertainty lurks in the corners of it, weighting the smile though not managing to drag it down.

"Does that freak you out?" Masaomi asks, the flick of his eyes as he searches Mikado's making Mikado shiver low in his belly.

Leaning sideways against the building, Mikado shakes his head.

"I really want to kiss you, Mikado."

"Okay," Mikado says.

He turns to rest back against the building as Masaomi steps to him. Masaomi presses his hands to the wall on either side of Mikado, but Mikado doesn't feel trapped. He could duck under one of Masaomi's arms, if he wanted to. Or, since Masaomi is just standing there, looking at him, looking into his eyes, Mikado could say something.

Mikado licks his lips and doesn't say anything.

"Okay," Masaomi says. He takes a deep breath, lets it out as he leans in, and closes his eyes as he touches his mouth to Mikado's.

Mikado closes his eyes, too. Masaomi's lips are soft, their movements soft, too. Mikado tries to mimic him, his softness. When he opens a little more to moisten his lips again, his tongue accidentally brushes Masaomi's lips. Masaomi vibrates in response, opens to him; and then Masaomi's tongue is inside Mikado's mouth, his hand cradling Mikado's jaw, thumb brushing over Mikado's cheek. Mikado's lashes flutter as he opens his eyes, then lets them fall shut again as he wraps his arms around Masaomi. Tongues and limbs and breaths twine, tangle, thrill. They press against each other, kissing with their bodies as much as their mouths, and Mikado feels himself hard against Masaomi's hip.

When the kiss breaks, Masaomi moves his mouth to Mikado's ear, nuzzling with warm, moist breaths. And then Masaomi murmurs his name and whispers, "Can I go down on you?"

Mikado bites back a whimper. Wetting his lips as he opens his eyes, he glances around. His hands drop from Masaomi to press against the wall, fingers curling to dig at the mortared cracks. "Here?"

Masaomi's lips curve up. "Anywhere." His brow quirks. "Yeah, sure: here, if you want."

Mikado looks at him, past the smile, into Masaomi's eyes. Mikado's teeth tug on his lower lip before his tongue soothes over it and he says breathlessly, because he's afraid he might lose his courage in the time it takes to inhale and exhale, "Let's go to my room. Okay?"

In answer, Masaomi kisses him again.

Mikado's room isn't far. They walk in silence and it's strange, maybe, to be with such a quiet Masaomi, but it's not awkward. It's almost comfortable, and the little part that isn't totally comfortable—that part doesn't feel bad. Hands in their own pockets, they steal occasional glances at each other as they go, sharing flashes of smiles when their eyes meet.

At his place, Mikado feels a sense of accomplishment when he gets the door open on the first try. He holds the door for Masaomi and, once they're both inside, shuts it behind them, his hand lingering against it. Since Masaomi isn't pushing him against the door, Mikado turns to face him. "So." He blinks, and then smiles to show that the blink was not a flinch. "Here we are..."

Masaomi smiles, too. He moves closer and still doesn't push Mikado against the door but he does reach around to flip the lock into place. "Here we are," Masaomi agrees, smile sparkling in his eyes. "At last." He leans in and puts his mouth to Mikado's. The back of Mikado's head doesn't touch the door because Masaomi's kiss doesn't push; and Masaomi's hands, they don't push either, they cradle Mikado's neck. Masaomi's tongue flicks over Mikado's lips, touches Mikado's tongue, flashes out and slips in again, lingers in the touch; their tongues linger together, twirling and stroking and tangling.

One of Masaomi's hands moves down to Mikado's waist, the other sliding around to cup his nape. His knee bends and his thigh nudges between Mikado's, pressing up as Mikado parts accommodatingly, rubbing against Mikado's sac; Mikado whimpers, arching as he pushes against Masaomi.

Masaomi breaks the kiss but doesn't move his leg, encouraging Mikado to grind against him. "You're so hard already," he says, the hand on Mikado's waist moving to finger Mikado's length through his trousers. When Mikado blushes and starts to open his mouth, Masaomi smiles and cuts him off: "No, I like that," he reassures Mikado. "I get hard really easily, too."

Anything Mikado might have said in response is swallowed in the kiss Masaomi leans in to give him.

They kiss some more, mouths and bodies pressed together. Then Masaomi swivels so their erections brush across each other and Mikado gasps, feeling a rush as Masaomi's breath momentarily fills his lungs. When Masaomi does it again, Mikado grabs his hips and pulls Masaomi against him, grinding in earnest as they continue kissing.

"You want to come like this?" Masaomi asks, breaking the kiss, teasing but at the same time offering a genuine choice as he adds, "Or do you want to continue this on the futon?"

The flash image of lying together with Masaomi on his futon shivers hot in Mikado. He's about to say he wants that, before he remembers himself. "Whatever you want." He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes sliding away from Masaomi's even though he really does want to keep looking. "This is supposed to be for you. Your birthday present."

The air seems to cool as Masaomi steps back. Mikado looks at him again. Masaomi meets his eyes only briefly before his gaze drops. "You—are you only doing this because I want it?" Brow furrowed, Masaomi turns his ankles out, balancing on the sides of his feet. "You don't want this, too?"

"No, I do want—" Mikado starts, stopping only because his head thuds against the door as Masaomi pushes him up against it for this kiss.

Masaomi rubs the back of Mikado's head as he straightens up. "Sorry. Are you okay?"

When Mikado nods, Masaomi smiles and keeps rubbing, letting his fingers burrow into the short strands. He doesn't do anything else and for a moment Mikado wonders if maybe Masaomi is as nervous as he is. Then he dismisses the thought. More likely Masaomi is waiting for Mikado to do something, to show Masaomi he really does want this, too. Mikado moistens his lips, lets them part, darts his tongue out to moisten them again. He tilts his head as he lets his gaze slip to Masaomi's mouth. Running the tip of his tongue over his lips once more, he glances up to Masaomi's eyes.

Their gazes don't meet right away, as Masaomi's lingers on Mikado's mouth. Then Masaomi looks up, into Mikado's eyes, and Mikado feels a push and a pull even though Masaomi's not touching him.

And then they're kissing. Mikado sighs into Masaomi's mouth, relief as much as pleasure washing through him as their bodies press together again. He's disconcerted to hear something that might be mewling come from himself when Masaomi pulls back, but then Masaomi's mouth is at his ear, blowing softly; Mikado always thought that sounded stupid, blowing in someone's ear, but it's _nice_ , nice enough to make him inhale, swallowing his own whimpers.

"Fuck, Mikado," Masaomi whispers. Mikado's fingers tighten in Masaomi's shirt, whether at hearing his name like that or from _that_ word, he doesn't know. "I want you so badly," Masaomi murmurs, nuzzling him, grinding against him with an agonizing slowness. "Want to see you."

Mikado finds himself looking down as Masaomi slides to his knees and gazes up. Masaomi pushes back Mikado's jacket to rest his hands on Mikado's hips, fingers hooking inside his waistband. "Can I?"

Chewing on his lip, Mikado nods.

With a smile, Masaomi pulls Mikado's shirt out, undoes the bottom couple of buttons, then pushes shirt and jacket away, exposing the skin of his belly. Masaomi looks up again to ask, "Can you hold these back?"

Mikado's fingers brush Masaomi's as he wordlessly takes the hem of his jacket and shirt from Masaomi, arching off the door as he tucks them in fists at the small of his back.

Masaomi sits back on his heels as he undoes the button of Mikado's trousers and drags down the zipper. "Can you—" Masaomi tugs Mikado's hips lightly, bringing him off the door and his own hands enough to draw down his trousers and briefs. Gravity takes over, pooling the clothing at his feet. Mikado holds the arch of his hips, watching as Masaomi strokes him first with gaze alone and then with thrill-inducing fingertips as well. Still arching, Mikado widens his stance, freeing his feet from his clothes as he does.

"You have a really nice cock," Masaomi says as he looks up this time, fingers continuing to explore with the thoroughness of the blind.

Uncertain of the appropriateness of the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Mikado angles his face but doesn't let himself shy away entirely. He catches enough of his breath to say, "Thank you."

Masaomi smiles at his blush. "Do you want to see mine?"

Mikado can only nod.

Masaomi kneels up and unzips himself, tugs open his trousers, framing his cock as he takes himself out.

Mikado's breath hitches. He wonders if this is how Masaomi felt when he first looked at Mikado just now. He leans more heavily against the door, letting it support him as he looks from Masaomi's cock to his own, then back to Masaomi's. He pushes his tongue along the roof of his unaccountably dry mouth and tries swallowing.

Glancing up, he finds Masaomi watching him. Mikado swallows again, then wets his lips. "You're cut," he says.

"Yeah." With a half-grin, Masaomi tilts his head so his hair falls to one side across his face. "Is that good, or do you like guys with intact foreskins?"

"I." Mikado swallows again.

Masaomi's grin goes wide and easy. "I guess it doesn't matter," he says, something of a wink in his voice, "when I'm the one blowing you!"

With that, he wraps his hand around the base of Mikado's cock, causing Mikado's breath to collide with itself as he tries to inhale and exhale simultaneously. Masaomi smiles up at him, then lets his mouth slacken and his eyes close as he cradles Mikado's cock against his cheek. It's so unexpected, even more than everything else Masaomi has done and said so far; it's unexpected and queer and perfect.

Masaomi sits back, twisting his wrist to hold Mikado at a new angle. Taking a deep breath, he leans in and licks along the length of the underside. The tremors his tongue gives Mikado must be contagious, because Mikado somehow thinks he can feel them echoed in Masaomi's fingers wrapped around him.

Then Mikado isn't thinking anything because his cockhead is in Masaomi's mouth, Masaomi's lips closing just beneath it, the tip of his tongue teasing Mikado's slit; and then Masaomi envelopes Mikado in wet heat as he goes down.

Mikado's hips jerk in little movements to the rhythm of Masaomi's sucking and bobbing. His teeth dig hard into his lower lip but moans slip out, anyhow, through subatomic spaces. His weight shifts as he lets go of his shirt and jacket and reaches for something more substantial, the fingers of one hand splaying out as he presses his palm to the door, his other hand stretching out for Masaomi—and then, with a shock of shame at his presumption, dropping down. Shoulders pushed against the door and hips arching off it, Mikado grabs at a shirt tail, crumpling the fabric in his fist.

"It's okay," Masaomi murmurs, and Mikado aborts a moan at the loss of Masaomi's mouth on him so he can hear more of Masaomi's voice like _this_ , all low and smooth and just a little rough around the edges, like frayed silk. "Go ahead," Masaomi says in his sex voice, holding Mikado in his eyes as he kisses Mikado's cockhead so Mikado can't hold back the moan this time. Masaomi smiles and Mikado wonders if everyone smiles at times like this or if it's a Masaomi thing. Smiling, Masaomi says, "You can touch me if you want." He kisses Mikado's cock again. Eyes closed now, Masaomi says softly, "I want you to."

With a hot, shivery sigh as Masaomi resumes sucking, Mikado uncurls his fist and lays his open hand on Masaomi's head. He slides through the soft strands, molds himself to Masaomi's skull beneath them, moving with Masaomi, Masaomi's rhythm. As the heat fans out, then condenses and swells inside him, Mikado begins moving Masaomi to his rhythm. Because it's okay; Masaomi said it was and it—oh, oh _yes_ , it _is_ —

Mikado chokes out Masaomi's name through heavy breath as he comes, fist clenched in Masaomi's hair, not to hold him in place, not to pull him away, just curling there tight and holding on. Masaomi stays on him, stays with him, swallowing and holding Mikado in his mouth until Mikado finally starts to ease. Then Masaomi sits back and wipes his wet, smiling mouth with the back of his hand.

"Did you like it?"

Their eyes meet and again Mikado finds himself speechless, able to express himself only with a nod. Masaomi smiles with pleasure; looking at Masaomi's smile, Mikado has to touch himself, lightly, his hand coming to rest in a protective curve over his softening cock.

"Do you mind if I finish myself off here?" Masaomi asks.

Mikado's eyes go to Masaomi's cock, still hard, the dark flush accentuated by glistening smears of precome. "Please," he says. So Masaomi kneels up again, pulls his trousers and underwear down to mid-thigh, then settles back on his heels and begins to stroke off in earnest, eyes closed and head arched back. Mikado thought—well, not that he's thought about it. Thinking about it now, though, Mikado would have figured Masaomi to be just as much of a talker doing _this_ as he is doing everything else. But Masaomi is near silent, his heavy breathing punctuated by an occasional heavier, soft grunt when he flicks his thumb across his head or twists his wrist just so.

After a little while, Mikado kneels, too, using his fallen trousers as a cushion. Masaomi opens his eyes and smiles before his mouth comes open in a gasp as Mikado touches him. Their hands move together on Masaomi's cock, with and over and against each other, their makeshift rhythm unsynchronized—until Masaomi finally surrenders and arches back, supporting himself with both hands on the floor behind him.

"Yeah~" Masaomi bucks up, thrusting into Mikado's blurring fist. "Yeah, fuck, that's good, ah yeah, _yeah~_ " The litany of pleasured murmurs and gasps, just how Mikado would have imagined Masaomi if he ever had imagined such a thing, makes Mikado blush but doesn't break his rhythm or focus. He keeps going, watching Masaomi's face until the moment that Masaomi's eyes squeeze shut tighter and his mouth falls open; even as Mikado feels the slick spurts of Masaomi's come splash his hand, he keeps watching Masaomi's face, relying on it to help him memorize the moment.

They take another moment like that, and another. Then Masaomi sits up fully, reaching into his pocket for a yellow bandana, which he hands to Mikado. "So you don't have to be uncouth like me," he grins, using his shirttail to wipe his cock.

As Mikado cleans off his own hand, Masaomi goes back into his pocket. This time, he produces a stick of gum which he unwraps one-handed and pops into his mouth. He takes it out after a few chews and leans in to kiss Mikado, then pauses before their lips touch. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Mikado says, moving into the kiss. He tastes himself, strangely, through mint.

Masaomi breaks the kiss to sit back. Reaching into his own mouth, he uses a blunt fingernail to scrape a pubic hair from between two of his teeth. "Sorry about that." He flicks it away with an apologetic grin, then kisses Mikado again, slow and not too deep.

As they part this time, Masaomi stretches and leans back on his hands again. Mikado is about to suggest rolling out the futon to lie down, when Masaomi says, "Do you want to go out and walk around a little?" It's still Masaomi's birthday, so Mikado agrees. After a hesitant glance at his discarded trousers and the bulge of his underwear crumpled inside them, Mikado goes to put on clean clothes. He wonders if he ought to offer Masaomi something clean, too, but when he glances over his shoulder he sees Masaomi already fastening up.

The early night air seems to restore Masaomi to his usual ebullient self, bouncing along as he talks about whatever pops into his head, by turns baffling and laugh-inducing, and ever charming.

As they cut through the park, Masaomi says, "I have a confession to make. I lied."

Mikado looks over but Masaomi is looking straight ahead. "About what?"

"About my birthday wish."

Mikado blinks. His feet feel like they want to stop but Masaomi is still going, so Mikado keeps up. "You didn't want to kiss me?"

Masaomi glances over and bumps Mikado's shoulder without taking his hands out of his pockets. "Of course I did! But that wasn't my secret wish."

Mikado relaxes. "It was the—" He knows the word but fumbles anyhow; it's easier to do than to say. He settles for, "The other thing," blushing anyhow even as he grins. "I already guessed that."

Gazing up at the stars, Masaomi puts his hands behind his head as they continue walking. "No—I mean, yes, I wanted that. But that's still not it."

Mikado looks from Masaomi to the stars, back to his friend, and then around at their surroundings and the general direction they seem headed in. "Russian sushi?" he hazards.

This time Masaomi laughs and Mikado knows he has it wrong again. "I just want to be boyfriends with you." Masaomi laughs again, different, softer, looking in the opposite direction as he lets his hands drop to swing at his sides.

Mikado curls his fingers around Masaomi's wrist, then slides down so they're palm-to-palm, fingers interlacing.

Masaomi looks down at their hands for a few steps, then up to return Mikado's smile. His own grin widens as he says, "But if you're treating, I wouldn't say no to Russian sushi!"

With a burst of laughter and speed, he takes off, still holding Mikado's hand but not needing to drag him along, because Mikado is right there with him.


End file.
